Unforgivable
by vampireduck86
Summary: When a DC lobbyist and his family are murdered in Boston, Mulder must return to criminal profiling to solve the beguiling case.
1. Chapter 1

_This is kind of a random story that I began working on over the summer and decided to post. Reviews are always appreciated (of course); I'd love to hear what you all think of it. :)_

_**CHAPTER ONE**_

Lena's bad Sunday night was rapidly turning into an even worse Monday. She stared out of her office window at the heavy rain falling in sheets and shook her head. It seemed that the powers that be really were aligning themselves against her. Someone up there certainly must have it in for her.

It had begun around midnight last night, when Lena had received the disturbing call about the murder in Cambridge. Within a half hour, she had made her way from Beacon Hill to the famous Boston suburb. She knew Cambridge well – she had gone to both high school and law school there – but there was definitely something eerie about driving the empty streets in the middle of the night. The well manicured lawns and elegant Victorian houses looked sinister, as if they were hiding a secret. Once she reached the crime scene, she began to realize just why she, as an FBI Agent, had been called out in the middle of the night. It went beyond anything the Boston CSIs were prepared to deal with. Already, journalists were beginning to gather beyond the yellow crime scene tape, all eager for their share of the story.

That was how Lena gave her first press conference of the day at three-thirty in the morning.

By the time she had finally made it back to the field office, all the major networks were already broadcasting the story. She watched with a few other agents as her pale and sleep deprived face flashed on the screen again and again, revealing that the Boston FBI really had no idea what had happened last night. That was _exactly _how she wanted the nation to perceive her right now.

But it wasn't until about noon on Monday that the other shoe really dropped. A.D. Keller had called her into his office to inform her that – though she would remain the Special Agent in Charge – the people down at headquarters in D.C. really thought they should send in one of their own, merely in a sort of…advisory role. But Lena had been in law enforcement long enough to know when to read between the lines. And by reading between the lines she realized that what Keller was saying – and the people at headquarters as well – was that Lena was not capable of handling this case on her own.

So it was at two-fifteen, she gave a second press conference, this one to reassure Bostonians that someone who knew what he was doing was on his way to the city and that his name was Fox Mulder…whoever that was.

The rain had come during that press conference. As if things couldn't get worse. Everyone in the field office was on high alert – rain would wash away important trace evidence outside the house. The evidence needed to convict the murderer could be gone, thanks to Mother Nature's cruel joke. That was why Lena was now sitting in her office, waiting for a call from Don Jordan, the CSI in charge of the crime scene, and for Fox Mulder to arrive from Logan. She had dispatched one of their interns, Jenny, to collect Mr. Mulder from the airport, which gave Lena a little more time to collect her thoughts and figure out some way to prove that she didn't need any help solving the case.

Someone knocked on the door and Bonnie Kendal stuck her head into the office. "Are you busy, Lee?" she asked, glancing around the office to make sure Lena wasn't in the midst of interviewing someone important.

Lena shook her head. "No. I'm just trying to find myself."

"Well, I've been trying to do that for years and just look at me." Bonnie spread her arms wide.

"You look great, Bonnie. Stop complaining." But Lena was laughing and Bonnie settled in front of her desk and produced a can of Coke seemingly out of thin air.

"Thought you might need some refreshment."

"You were right." Lena sighed. "I can't believe they're sending someone from D.C."

Bonnie popped the top on her can and sipped at it. "I don't think it's really any reflection on you, Lee. For all you know, this might be standard procedure. How many lobbyists are murdered in their beds?"

Lena rolled her eyes, granting the point. "I don't know. And I bet you'd feel differently if you were the SAC."

"Perhaps. You never know, though. He could be a really nice guy. You might learn something from one another."

Lena was saved from having to answer that statement when the phone rang. "I bet that's Jordan," she said. "Thanks for the Coke. I'm sure I'll talk to you soon." She cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear. "Jordan, I'm glad you could return my call."

The brusque head of the Boston crime lab cleared his throat. "I suppose you were calling because of the rain, Agent Lopez." He had been born into one of the most volatile Irish families in Boston and spoke with an accent that was a strange mix of Bostonian and Irish. His voice was also layered by the smoking habit that he had fed since he was eighteen.

"We're all on the edge of our seats, Don," Lena replied coyly, immediately switching over to calling Jordan by his first name. This was a game they'd played for a long time. She had known Don for some time, since she had begun working for the District Attorney's office after she finished her clerkship. Often Lena was the one who communicated with Don regarding evidence in trials and when she became Associate DA, Don was often the person she called to the stand during trials.

Don laughed. "I bet everyone over there really is worried, aren't they, Lee?"

"They're breathing down my neck like it's _my _fault it started raining!"

"Well, you're in luck – I watched the weather last night. I had CSIs beginning to clear the yard the moment we got there."

Lena sighed with relief. "Aw, Don, you're a lifesaver. Maybe you should join up with the Bureau."

"And have to deal with the shit you put up with every day? No thanks. I'm quite happy where I am, thank-you very much."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." From behind her, she heard the office door open and knew that Agent Mulder had arrived. Well, he would just have to wait until she got off the phone. "What about the autopsies? Have you heard from Doc yet?"

"He insisted on doing them all himself, so it's taking a while. But I think at least a couple might be done. I'll have one of my people give him a call when I get off the phone with you."

"Good. And I'd like the reports as soon as he gets them."

"I'll make sure he knows that. He can fax them?"

Lena considered this for a moment. "Better not. If possible, I'd like them via messenger."

"Considering the case, I don't think he'll argue too much with that."

"Probably not. Anyway, I think that's about it from over here. I'll probably be at the house in a little while anyway, but call me on my cell if you come upon anything I need to know."

"Will do."

They spent a couple more moments with goodbyes before Lena hung up and prepared herself to deal with Agent Mulder. She put on her practiced, lawyer-meets-client smile and turned to face Mulder. Jenny introduced him – she had sent Jenny for a reason, the girl probably had already talked Mr. D.C.'s ear off – and they shook hands the way two people who were completely uninterested in one another did. Mulder was perhaps a little younger than she had expected, but he still had the air of an FBI agent, with his suit that hadn't wrinkled at all during the flight to Boston, hair that fell perfectly into his eyes, and features that probably had broken more than its fair share of hearts. She was suddenly very aware of the fact that she hadn't slept in nearly two days and that she was still wearing the gray tweed pants and scarlet tank-top that she had thrown on hours ago before she hurried to Cambridge. _No doubt I look quite attractive right now, _she thought with a frown.

She dismissed Jenny, who looked more than a little reluctant to leave the dashing new agent. But they had things to talk about, and Lena didn't need the loquacious girl learning something she didn't need to know. When Jenny had left, Mulder glanced around the room with interest.

"Nice digs," he said. "Much nicer than mine."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He smirked. "I'm in the basement."

"Oh."

"Long story," he explained. "I'd get into it, but I don't think you'd be all that interested. Honestly, I have to admit that I'm a little surprised to be here…usually I work alone."

"Then we do have something in common," Lena replied dryly. She was already walking towards the other side of the room, where she had been systematically recording all the evidence thus far gathered on whiteboards standing around the office. Mulder frowned. "I did a little research on you before you came," she continued, pausing in front of a floor plan for the house. "I know that you're a brilliant criminal profiler, which would explain why you're here. Except that for the past few years you've been devoting most of your energies to a…side project. And said side project has very little to do with criminal profiling. So my question to you is why are you here when you haven't profiled a criminal in years?"

Mulder eyed her. "Just because I'm not profiling regularly, doesn't mean that I've forgotten how to do it. You haven't actively practiced law for some years now, but I imagine that you'd still be formidable in the court room."

Lena set her jaw but said nothing. "I suppose by now you know a little bit about the case?"

"Only that Jason Hobson was murdered at home last night. And, because he was an influential Congressional lobbyist, I'm here as a representative of his work."

She clenched her jaw some more before speaking again. "That's the tip of the iceberg, Mr. Mulder."

"What do you mean?"

She pointed to another whiteboard where she had tacked four smiling portrait photos. "Jason Hobson was murdered, yes, but so were his wife, Tina, and his two children, Alice and Frank," her voice had grown soft and reverent, as if they were talking in a Gothic Cathedral, not a sixth floor FBI office.

Both agents fell silent; the only noise came from the fluorescent lights above them and the rain lashing against the window. At last, Mulder approached the whiteboard and stared into those smiling, unknowing, empty faces. "All four?"

"Shot in their sleep. The weapon must have had a silencer, not to wake someone."

"How old were the children."

"Fifteen and eleven."

Mulder shook his head. "Jesus Christ."

Lena nodded. "It was very thorough. Trace evidence is minimal. I was at the house for several hours early this morning, and when I left, CSI still hadn't found much. This was planned – it wasn't an act of passion. It was coldly methodical." The other agent nodded and his eyes traveled to Lena's notes on the white boards. "There isn't much there," she said, following his gaze. "Just bios and such."  
"Has CSI cleared the scene?"

"I doubt it. I just got off the phone with the head of the section. They're taking their time with this one."

Mulder continued to think in silence for a few more minutes. "Think I can take a look at the scene."

Lena shot him an appraising look. "I thought you might ask that."

* * *

Within minutes, Lopez had loaded Mulder into her car – a black SUV of the Ford persuasion – and they were roaring through an underground highway, supposedly towards Cambridge. Mulder hadn't been to Boston for a very long time – probably before he went to Oxford, he and his friends used to come up to Boston to get into trouble when they were teenagers – and he didn't remember ever traversing the city by driving under it. He asked Lopez about it. 

She chuckled. "This is the product of our 'Big Dig.' A few years ago, I think it was around 1998 or so, someone decided that it would be a good idea to clear the skyline of all the overpasses traveling around the city, so some engineers got together and designed an underground system and sunk those selfsame overpasses. So now, when all the high-powered execs look out their windows, they see nothing but our beautiful city."

"You don't have such a bad view yourself," Mulder reminded her.

Lopez shrugged. "Well, anyway, I guess the city isn't really all that happy with how things turned out; they sued the people responsible behind the Big Dig. They're claiming it was mismanaged, ex cetera, ex cetera. I went to law school with one of the guys representing the city…" Lopez shook her head in disgust. "There's a reason why I avoided litigation like the plague. And still do."

"A lawyer with a soul. I'm shocked."

"I'm not going to even dignify that with a reply."

They pulled out of the underpass and back into the rain. Lopez flipped on the windshield wipers and the pair lapsed into a heavy silence. Mulder took advantage of the time to appraise his forced partner for a second time. She was much younger than he had expected, with a round face, a feature that was almost Slavic. But apart from that and her shocking green eyes, her general features were typically Hispanic. Her skin was a wonderful caramel colour and matched her hair quite nicely. Her hair was a deep black and she wore it today with the sides pulled back to make a small bun. In the back, it hung long, brushing the middle of her back. Around her face, a few stray strands had frizzed in the summer humidity and floated around her head like a dark halo. But her most compelling features were her eyes. Though the irises were green, they were deep set and heavy lidded, making them very dark and very compelling. They were easily the most emotive part of her face.

He was also struck by her confidence, something she seemed to exude from every part of her body. From the moment he met her, he began to realize why the field office had selected her as the SAC, despite her lack of seniority and her young age. She was someone who knew how to get results. On their way to the field office only a few hours before, Jenny had told him that Lopez had been the Associate DA before she joined the FBI. That meant that she not only did she already know many of the people in the crime lab and the BPD, she had friends in high places who could help her when it came down to the wire. Connections were incredibly important and Agent Lopez had them.

Cambridge was an academic suburb, boasting Harvard University as only one of its claims to fame. It was nearly impossible to tell were Boston ended and Cambridge began but that was typical of Boston's suburbs. It also had a very characteristic of New England, with its tree-lined streets and plain, red-brick buildings. They whipped by M.I.T. on their way into the town and soon were passing Harvard Square, going north.

Lopez noticed Mulder glancing around, looking for something and she inquired what.

"McLean Hospital. You know, the one Ray Charles was at."

She nodded and pointed. "That way. In Belmont. It's kind of out of the way. It was rather exclusive, back in the day."

McLean Mental Hospital was one of the most famous in the country, primarily for its clientele. Ray Charles, as Mulder had mentioned, was treated there, as was the poet Sylvia Plath and James Brown. He craned his neck to attempt a better view.

"Ever been there?"

"A couple times. When I was in school, they had us go up there to watch the psychiatrists at work. We were supposed to learn how to ask pointed questions and remain calm when our depos turned sour."

"Depos?"

"Depositions. You know. So we don't make ourselves look like fools when we walk into the courtroom?"

"Right. Did it help?"

Lopez raised an eyebrow. "As much as anything, I suppose." She turned down a secluded side street and pulled to a stop in front of an impressive Victorian manor surrounded in police tape. "This is the one."

Mulder whistled as he considered the house. "God. Lobbying must have been good to Jason Hobson."

Lopez nodded in agreement but said nothing as she hopped out of the car. A clot of journalists had gathered near the house, braving the rain. One of them noticed Lopez and shot towards her. The others followed a few seconds latter, like lemmings.

"Agent Lopez! Does the FBI have any suspects?"

"Lopez! Lopez! Is it true that Hobson was illegally paying off Senator Thompson?"

Mulder glanced in Lopez's direction. "Senator Thompson?"

"One of ours. A Democrat with aspirations for the White House." She jerked her head at the press corps. "Ignore them."

"Lena! Is this the FBI agent they sent up from DC?"

She turned to the journalists. "No comment," she said and Mulder could tell she rather enjoyed saying it. He followed her as she ducked under the police tape. She flashed her badge at the police officers at the door. Mulder did the same.

By now, most of the police officers had left and the majority of the people in the house were from the crime lab. Lopez pointed upstairs. "They already removed the bodies, but you can still take a look at the bedrooms."

Mulder nodded and began to climb the stairs. He heard one of the CSIs address Lopez and they went into the kitchen. He squared his shoulders to prepare himself for what he was going to see.

* * *

"There's another child?" Lena asked, staring at the card Doug, the CSI, had handed her. 

"There has to be. How else to you explain this? And there's another bedroom upstairs too."

"How did I miss that this morning?"

Doug shrugged. "Well, the door was closed, we only opened it up after you and Don had left. Plus the Hobson family was notoriously reclusive. They didn't want their children hearing bad things about their father, since he was a lobbyist and everything."

Lena reread the card and frowned. "Weird. I can't believe this."

"What?" Agent Mulder had come back downstairs and was standing in the doorway.

"The Hobsons had another child. From this, it looks like a daughter." She handed the card to Mulder after he had put on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Lindsey, 4 p.m.," he read aloud. "This appointment was for yesterday. Who's Dr. Larson?"

"He's with the cardiology department at the Mass Gen," Lena said, crossing her arms over her chest. She bit her lip. "Hold on." She whipped out her cell phone.

"Massachusetts General Hospital, Cardiology. This is Holly."

"Hey, Holly. It's Lee."

"Oh, Hi Lee. I saw you on the TV this morning. Wild, hun?"

Lena nodded. "Yeah, this is crazy. I can't believe it. Holly, is Ethan in?"

Holly went quiet for a few moments and Lena could hear her chair scrape across the tiled floor as she checked the boards. "Yeah, Lee. He's here. Do you want me to page him?"

"No, that's okay. If you see him, let him know that I'm coming by soon."

"I will. Good luck with this case."

"Thanks." Lena hung up. "Are you done here?"

Mulder stared at her. "What was that all about?"

"If you're done, we're going to find out about Lindsay Hobson."


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I hope everyone likes the chapter, even though it's kinda short. :) **_

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

The Mass Gen sits on the banks of the Charles River, facing Cambridge. Stretching an entire city block, hospital is a stone's throw from MIT. The hospital is also near the Government Centre, where the field office is. The Mass Gen is almost its own, self-sustaining city. The largest and oldest general hospital in New England, over a million people are treated there each year.

After parking in the enormous parking garage, Mulder followed Lopez into the hospital. "Cardiology's in the Bigelow wing," Lopez said, turning left abruptly. Once out of the main corridor, the crush of people was a little less intense, and Mulder was able to catch up with Lopez.

"Do you spend a lot of time here?" Mulder asked, once they had entered the elevator and were gently climbing towards the cardiology ward.

"The Mass Gen?" Lopez leaned against the slick silver elevator wall. "Sometimes autopsies are performed here. We prefer them to be performed here, of course. It's much closer to the field office than the state path lab is. Sometimes they do them at City." She grimaced. "If you ever get shot and they try to take you to City, beg them to take you anywhere else."

"Why's that?"

"That's where they take all the bums they find drunk on the street." She noticed his expression and glanced at the floor. "They're under funded. We have so many hospitals…"

"And this one isn't? Under funded, I mean."

"Of course not. It's associated with Harvard Med School, you know." Mulder couldn't help but smirk when he heard her say 'Harvard.' She noticed the smirk. "What?"

"The way you say Harvard. Hah-vahd. You must be a Boston native."

Lopez wrinkled her brow, clearly not amused. "You're going to find yourself in a lot of trouble if you're going to go around here laughing at everyone who says 'Hah-vahd.'" She made a point to mimic Mulder's bombastic attempt at a Bostonian accent. Mulder had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He had forgotten how touchy New Englanders could be since he fled the Vineyard.

The elevator opened and Lopez led the way to the main desk. A fairly young red-head glanced up as they approached and grinned when she saw Lopez. "That was quick, Lee," she said.

"We were in Cambridge. This is Fox Mulder, from FBI headquarters, in DC. Mulder, this is Holly Burbank." Lopez leaned forward over the counter, craning her head to see the board. She was fairly short, so her feet lifted off the tiled floor. He found the action surprisingly appealing. "Dr. Larson's in surgery?"

Holly turned and also considered the board. "Yeah. Double bypass. Began at three."

Lopez righted herself and glanced up at the clock. "So he'll be busy for a couple hours still."

"With post-op, yeah."

"Lena?"

Both Mulder and Lopez turned at the sound of the voice. A doctor was coming up the hall. He was maybe Lopez's age, but probably a little bit older. He had dark hair cut in a modern style. He was fairly tall as well. He wore his stethoscope around this neck and his lips spread into a wide smile. Mulder had to admit he was handsome, if you liked the clean-cut, preppy type.

Lopez also smiled. "Hey, stranger," she said.

"Long time, no see," the doctor replied. Lopez darted towards him and he lifted her into the air. They kissed.

When the doctor had set Lopez back on the ground, she turned to Mulder, unable to hide her happiness. "Agent Mulder, this is my husband, Ethan Kinkaid. Ethan, this is Fox Mulder, the agent from DC."

Dr. Kinkaid extended a hand to Mulder. "It's nice to meet you. You're here to make certain that Lena doesn't get herself into trouble, I suppose?" Kinkaid also spoke with a Bostonian accent, though his was more traditional than Lopez's. Her voice, Mulder realized, was layered with the vestiges of other accents, as if she had once spoken with a different accent but had adopted a Bostonian accent.

"Uh, sure," Mulder muttered, trying to figure out why he was so surprised that Lopez was married. Why hadn't he noticed that ring before?

Lopez turned back to the doctor. "I'm glad you're here, actually. We were looking for Dr. Larson, but he's in surgery."

"Yeah, an emergency double bypass. All those French fries'll kill you. Why are you looking for Larson? Or is that for FBI eyes only?"

Lopez shot him a slightly put-out look. "Ethan. We wanted to talk to him about one of his patients. Lindsey Hobson."

Kinkaid's smile faded. "Yes, I know Lindsey. I saw her with Larson yesterday. Why don't we talk in the lounge?"

The lounge was a warm, inviting room. Several large windows looked out on the river and Mulder could make out the rounded rotunda of one of the MIT campus buildings. A few round tables were positioned around the room. Someone had left a pile of charts on the table nearest the windows. Kinkaid settled in a large leather chair next to another window and the two agents followed suit.

"So you saw Lindsey yesterday?" Lopez asked. "When did she leave?"

"She hasn't. We had to keep her overnight for observation."

That solved one mystery. At least they didn't have to traipse through all of Boston, looking for a six-year-old child. "She's here?" Mulder repeated.

Kinkaid nodded. "Why?" Lopez asked, leaning forward onto her knees.

"She has a hole in her heart, which is exactly what it sounds like. In Lindsey's case, she has a small hole between her left and right ventricles. She was – is – scheduled for surgery on it in a couple weeks."

"So why was she here last night?"

"Well, Lindsey's condition was first diagnosed when her regular physician noticed that she had a heart murmur. She went in for a check-up earlier this week and the doctor noticed that the murmur sounded stronger. So she suggested we admit Lindsey overnight to determine whether or not this was something that could impact her surgery."

"Who brought Lindsey in yesterday?" Lopez asked.

"Her mother."

"Alone?"

"Right. Tina Hobson always brings Lindsey and always comes by herself. She was really quite worked up about Lindsey's condition. She was terrified that Lindsey's condition was deteriorating."

Mulder frowned. "Was it?"

"No, not really," Kinkaid replied. "It was a false alarm. Lindsey's fine this morning."

"Can we see her?" Lopez pursed her lips.

Kinkaid shot her a worried look. "Lena, are you really sure…?"

"For the case," she interrupted. "She's the only Hobson still alive. We need to know if she remembers anything that might be relevant."

Kinkaid stood up and looked like he was about to argue with his wife. But then he just shook his head. "Come on, then. Her room is down the hall."

* * *

Lena was struck first by how blonde Lindsey's hair was. She didn't remember any of the other Hobson children having blonde hair. But that didn't mean anything. Her friend John used to be a towhead when they were children and had grown into his current brown hair. Mulder turned to her before they entered the room.

"You want to do the talking?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not so good with kids, Mr. Mulder?"

He returned her gaze with a definite "fuck you" look. "I just thought she might be more comfortable around a woman, that's all."

Lena rolled her eyes and shot Ethan a dark look. He just shrugged and led them into the room. Lindsey looked very small in her bed and Lena felt her heart skip a beat. Twenty-four hours ago, this little girl had a family. Now she had no one.

Ethan sat down next to Lindsey's bed. "Lindsey, this is Lena and…uh." He looked back at Mulder.

"I'm Mulder, Lindsey," he said, sitting on the end of the bed. "Lo…uh, Lena and I want to talk to you for a few minutes." Both Ethan and Mulder turned to her and watched her expectantly.

Lena felt her stomach drop. How do you tell a six year old that her family is dead? She rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Lindsey, som-something happened at your house last night…"

Lindsey just stared at Lena. "Where's Mommy?"

She felt like sobbing. "Um, well…Lindsey… Lindsey, your parents were seriously hurt last night. And the doctors did everything they could to try and help them… But, they didn't make it."

The little girl looked into Lena's eyes. All she could think about was another little girl in another hospital bed, staring up at another civil servant with the same knowing expression in her eyes. Lena felt the earth shift underneath her. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She heard Ethan say her name but ignored him. She looked up again and locked eyes with the child. "I'm sorry, Lindsey."

Mulder cleared his throat. "Lindsey, do you know anyone who might want to hurt your parents?"

Lindsey, now staring at the bedspread, shook her head. "Is Uncle Karl going to come pick me up?"

"Uncle Karl?" Lena frowned. "Who's Uncle Karl, Lindsey?"

"He comes to see me in the hospital sometimes."

"Did he come see you last night?"

She nodded.

"Do you know his last name?" Mulder asked.

"He's just Uncle Karl."

A few minutes later, Mulder and Lena left the room so Ethan could check Lindsey's vitals. "We need to know more about the Hobsons," Lena muttered, frowning.

"I took the liberty of having my people back in DC look into some of his activities on Capitol Hill before I left," Mulder said. "Hopefully they'll be sending us some information in the next couple days."

"We'll need to contact the _Globe_ too," Lena said. "They should have some basic information about him and his family. And the _Post._ I have a friend over there who might be able to help us."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "At the _Washington Post?_"

"Sure. One of my old classmates from USC works in over there right now. He primarily writes for the Metro desk, but I think he might do some pieces about politics."

"The University of Southern California?"

"Sure. I had to do my undergrad work somewhere, didn't I?"

"Fair enough." He glanced at his watch. "Hobson was a lobbyist for Hanover Cigarettes, wasn't he?"

Lena shrugged. "Right."

"Think we might have time to make his office before it closes?"


End file.
